


Before the Dawn

by theimprobable1



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimprobable1/pseuds/theimprobable1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry is accustomed to nightmares. What he isn't used to is having someone there to chase them away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Chess-ka for beta services!

Henry wakes with a quiet gasp, and he knows immediately that he’s at home in bed. That’s good. His heart is hammering and he can’t quite catch a full breath, but at least he isn’t screaming and disoriented. There’s no poisonous fog seeping from under the furniture, no red-eyed monsters lurking in the dark corners of the bedroom. He’s okay. Shaky, but okay. It was one of the better nightmares. He forces himself to take deep, calming breaths through his nose.

Next to him, Martin’s fast asleep, curled on his side with his back to Henry. Henry’s tangled in the bed sheets so he must have thrashed about quite a bit, but it doesn’t seem to have disturbed Martin’s sleep. That’s good too, even though Henry would have liked nothing better than to have Martin pull him close and whisper soothing words in his ear.

Martin has never once complained about Henry’s nightmares, not even that one time when Henry kicked him so hard that Martin fell off the bed. Henry is sure Martin wouldn’t be angry if Henry woke him now, he’d be caring and concerned, he’d kiss Henry’s forehead and stroke his face and curl himself next to him, and Henry could fall back asleep to the hot puffs of Martin’s breath tickling the skin on his neck. It’s funny how quickly he got used to the comfort of Martin’s presence, when there had been no one for most of his life. He knows perfectly well how to cope with the aftermath of a nightmare on his own. He still does it when Martin isn’t here. But now, with Martin so close, it’s so tempting to reach out for the comfort and reassurance he knows he would get. 

“Martin?” Henry whispers. It’s barely audible, and of course Martin doesn’t stir. And that’s for the best, really. Martin came home so exhausted last night, he needs proper rest and not to be woken in the middle of the night by his crazy boyfriend. What is Henry thinking, trying to wake him? He should be glad that Martin was able to sleep through it for once. Martin’s been patience personified so far, but it’s bound to start getting on his nerves sooner or later, and Henry can’t bear the thought of being a burden to Martin. 

He tries to lie quietly and concentrate on the regular sound of Martin’s breathing, but it’s impossible to stay still when he can barely stop himself from reaching for him. He drags himself out of bed and goes to the kitchen, fighting the urge to turn on every light on the way. He isn’t afraid of the dark, and isn’t going to be silly just because a bad dream has made him jittery. He’s completely safe. He drinks a glass of water at the sink, and tries to force his mind to think happy thoughts.

A few months ago, there wasn’t much in Henry’s category of “happy thoughts”. Now, the term is almost entirely synonymous with “thoughts of Martin.” His hands are still shaking, but he can feel his heart fill with affection at the thought of the man asleep upstairs. He’s so lucky to have him. It’s good that he didn’t wake him, as nice as it would have been to have him here now. Martin deserves the best, and Henry can give him so little. One night of undisturbed sleep is nothing compared to what Martin gives him every day. Even when Martin isn’t there, when they don’t see each other for days, just knowing that he will get to see Martin eventually is enough to make Henry’s life so much brighter. It’s incredible that, after having accepted that he’s just too shy and too damaged to have any kind of close relationships and that alone is the only way he knows how to be, he has met someone he finds it so easy to be with. The protective walls Henry had spent a lifetime building around himself somehow seemed lower and thinner with Martin, and Henry still finds it hard to believe how quickly he’s come to feel at ease in Martin’s presence, how quickly being with Martin became preferable to being alone.

He thinks about the way Martin’s eyes shine when he talks about the latest plane related thing he finds incredibly exciting, the way he smiles when he sees that Henry is listening and not at all bored. The way Martin’s long fingers fit so well in the gaps between Henry’s much less elegant ones, how much he loves holding Martin’s hand, having a tangible reminder that he’s no longer alone. He thinks about Martin running through a dark forest, panting as he turns to look over his shoulder at the thing that’s chasing him –

_No. No. Don’t think about that, that never happened, never will happen. Martin’s safe, you’re safe, he’s asleep in your bed, think about his smile in the morning when you make him breakfast, the coffee-flavoured kisses. Don’t think about the hound, there was never any hound, no, don’t think, don’t…_

“Henry?”

Henry jerks and turns, startled by the sound of Martin’s voice. He can barely make out his shape in the doorway, but he knows what Martin looks like – his worn T-shirt hanging loose on his thin shoulders, his pyjama bottoms slipping low on his hips, his tousled hair and bleary eyes. Martin makes a few steps towards Henry, and the sudden pang of longing Henry feels almost overwhelms him. How was he able to leave the bed, leave Martin’s side, when all he wanted was to be close to him?

“Nightmare?” Martin asks softly. Henry nods, and Martin lets out a sympathetic sigh. He doesn’t ask if Henry wants to talk about it, because he knows Henry never does. “Why didn’t you wake me?” He reaches up to touch Henry’s cheek, but stops short. “Un-unless you want to be alone?” he adds uncertainly. “It’s okay if you do, I can go…”

“No! I… no,” Henry manages before giving in to the urge to pull Martin against him. Martin’s hands come up immediately to rub Henry’s back soothingly, and Henry feels weak at the knees from how good it is to have Martin in his arms, how quickly it makes the tension seep out of him. Martin is significantly smaller than Henry, but somehow holding onto him still makes Henry feel cared for and protected and _safe._

“You could’ve woken me,” Martin murmurs after a while. “I know I can’t do much, but I want to do what I can.”

“I’m not a child. I can deal with this alone, there’s no need for you to be awake just because I am,” Henry says, but it’s a pretty lame protest – even as he says it he clutches Martin tighter.

“I know you can. But you – you don’t _have to_. I think it… helps you a little, when I’m here, doesn’t it? You don’t have to make it harder for yourself than it already is.”

Henry says nothing. He knows that Martin means it, but the comfort he gets from Martin’s presence can’t outweigh the risk it entails. Henry couldn’t bear it if Martin became fed up with it and left.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Martin says. “I – I don’t care if the nightmares never stop. I mean, no, I mean, of course I _care_ , I _hate_ that you have to go through that and I wish I could take them away and I really believe you’ll continue getting better but I – I want to be there where you need me. I just want to say that I’ll always rather be awake and with you than asleep and alone. I know this like I know that I’ll always want to fly.”

From the way Martin shifts in Henry’s arms Henry can tell that he’s blushing – he’s known Martin long enough to recognise all the ways in which his embarrassment manifests itself. Henry should be the only one with a reason to be embarrassed, but he isn’t – not anymore, not in front of Martin. And Martin shouldn’t, either, certainly not because he has said something that makes Henry feel like he’s just immersed himself into a hot bath. Despite the cold feeling deep in his stomach he finds himself wanting to smile.

“I love you,” he breathes. What else is there to say? It’s true, and Henry has been wanting to say it for a while. It’s interesting how things that seemed scary in the daylight turn out to be easy in the middle of the night when your nerves are on edge.

Martin splutters – something. It’s not in any recognisable language, but Henry understands anyway. He understands his adorably flustered Martin who has somehow turned a horrible night into a beautiful one. He can still feel a vague nausea, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He’ll go back to bed with Martin and cuddle up close to him and everything will be fine. 

Martin gives up his attempts at verbal communication and kisses Henry, slow and sleepy, and Henry never wants to let him go. They stay pressed together for several long moments, and Henry feels surprisingly calm considering he was expecting several sleepless hours.

“Ready to go back to bed?” Martin asks finally, stroking up and down Henry’s arm. Henry nods, and lets himself be led by the hand to the bedroom. They climb back into bed and Martin settles his head on Henry’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together on Henry’s stomach.

“Try to fall back asleep, hmm?” he whispers, kissing Henry’s jaw. “And no more silly thoughts.”

“It’s not silly, though. You have a job where you need to be alert, I can’t keep you up half the night.”

“The only times you’ve kept me up half the night certainly weren’t because of your nightmares, if I remember correctly, and you never seemed to mind. But I – it’s okay, I’m not saying you _have_ to wake me, just that you _can_. Anytime. I’ll wake up anyway if you go to mope in the kitchen instead, you know. I can’t sleep if your ears aren’t here to block the light from the street.”

“Hey,” Henry murmurs, not really bothering to sound affronted. Miraculously, he can already feel sleep tugging at his eyelids. 

“Sorry,” Martin chuckles, and moves to press a kiss to Henry’s left ear. 

“I do feel so much better when you’re there,” Henry says quietly. “Thank you for… everything.”

“Stop thanking me and go to sleep. You’ll need energy in the morning.”

“Oh, will I?”

“Definitely. Lots of it.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t like to disappoint you. Night, then.”

“Sleep well.”

Henry does.


End file.
